Cold
by ellamalfoy8
Summary: OneShot ‘Numb is the word that she is searching for. No feeling, no emotion, not one thought. She is not sad, because everything she could be sad for does not register in her mind.’


**A/N: Here's just a small, pointless OneShot that I wrote a few weeks ago at camp. Seriously, pointless. More like an experiment on my part to see if I could write present tense. Well anyway, continuing ellamalfoy8's random moments of insanity. This time it's a different ship, but I'm not saying who, since you don't really find out until the end anyway.**

**Summary: **_OneShot_** '**_Numb is the word that she is searching for. No feeling, no emotion, not one thought. She is not sad, because everything she could be sad for does not register in her mind.'_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nope. Sorry.**

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**Cold**

December. It is cold. The lake is covered with ice five inches thick. There is snow.

She sits down, unprotected from the wet, damp grass. It soaks through her pajamas, making her skin clammy. She doesn't care, for she is beyond caring. She doesn't even feel it.

She lies back, feeling her hair sink into the snow, feeling her body be buried by it all. The stars are dull, and everything is still.

Numb is the word she is searching for. No feeling, no emotion, not one thought. She is not sad, because everything she could be sad for does not register in her mind.

They are sad. They sort through the emotion, boxing up regret with packing popcorn and duct tape next to doubt and fear. But numb- numb is not emotion. Numb is a state of being.

And she is numb.

A clump of snow melts on her cheek, the little trickle of water slipping down her pale skin and onto her neck. She shivers.

It is still cold, but she does not move, does not consider it.

If she is quiet, she might hear him, his joyous laugh, his angered growls, his fork scraping against the bottom of his plate. She might hear the Weasleys, mourning him. Another son down.

She hears nothing.

Someone hovers over her, casting no shadow, for there is no moon. She does not care, for caring would be an emotion, and she has no emotion left.

This person sits down on her right, a mere blurry outline in the dark. He is larger than her, an adult, but who isn't an adult these days? With the Golden Trio splintered, where does someone hold hope?

She has no hope.

He lies down too, staring up at the stars with a blank expression. His profile against the glowing windows is plain, not the sharp jutting features of Draco, nor the familiar roundness of a Weasley.

Weasley. Ouch.

He says nothing as his heart rate slows, only breathes in gently the smell of winter.

Not feeling threatened, for she has no feeling, she closes her eyes, her frozen eyelashes melting together. There is a sense of understanding between them.

And they are both cold.

She unconsciously tilts her body towards his, attracted by the faint waves of warmth that he is radiating. Wordlessly, he allows her to snuggle her whole body against his, her head resting against his chest. He knows what she is doing, for he has done it before.

First try to be dead too, but when you can't melt into the snow, try to feel alive.

She cries, for the end of the war, for the loss of a friend, for the hopeless expression on Harry's face. He does not cry, for he has too many times before. He comforts, that is his job.

He holds her to him, her arms curled against his chest. His arms are wrapped around her little frame protectively, for she is dangerously icy. How long has she been out here?

She cries herself to sleep, nestled against him, and he gets up and carries her through the halls of Hogwarts, her head resting in the crook of his elbow. Instead of bringing her back to the desolate Gryffindor common room, he goes back to his private chambers. He puts her in his bed after drying her pajamas without removing them, and piles every blanket he owns over her.

He sleeps on the couch, and then goes to breakfast in the Great Hall as he does every morning.

It's just another morning.

She wakes up to find a note on the pillow next to her.

_Hermione-_

_If you have a cold, I have Pepper Up potion in my bathroom cabinet. I wouldn't want you to sneeze on your Vampire essay, still due tomorrow. _

_-Remus_

_P.S. Stay warm._


End file.
